


Fake or Real

by golden_redhead



Series: Saioumota Week 2018 [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, OT3, Prompt: Comfort, Saioumota week 2018, Sleep Paralysis, Spoilers, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 22:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15592257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_redhead/pseuds/golden_redhead
Summary: Kokichi tries to move his hand, throw away the blanket and scream, scream until the feeling just goes away, but he can’t, he just can’t. His mind is awake, eyes open, but paralysis holds his body in an iron grip. He can only stare at the ceiling above his head, knowing that he’s not alone, knowing that there’s something lurking in the dark, ready to lunge at him at any moment and he won’t even see it coming. The pressure on his chest intensifies, as if some invisible force is pushing him into the mattress. Kokichi tries to raise his head, but it’s useless, all useless, he can’t move, he can’t do any---“Upupupu~!”For one dreadful second everything stops.





	Fake or Real

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starling (StarDandere)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarDandere/gifts).



> Thank you @asteril, I have no idea what I would do without you.  
> This fic goes with a dedication for @Starling :) I don't think I'd be this deep in the Oumota Hell if it weren't for your content and I love it here, so!

_Kokichi can’t breathe._

 

That’s the first thing that his confused brain is able to register as his eyes snap wide open. There’s a heavy weight on his chest, pressure impossible to ignore. His mind goes into an instant panic mode and he opens his mouth to scream--- but no sound comes out. The room is as quiet as it was before, not even a weak gasp or a broken sob leaves his mouth. In fact, he doesn’t think that his mouth even opened. There’s a thick, heavy energy in the air and all of his senses feel like they’re heightened. He’s aware of two bodies curled up on both of his sides, of the faint glow of the little plastic stars dotting the otherwise perfectly boring and plain ceiling of their bedroom. He can feel the warmth of Shuichi’s breath on his neck and a big, protective arm of Kaito resting on his waist. A blanket --- one of Kaito’s, galaxy print a clear giveaway - is wrapped around him and suddenly it feels too hot and too cold all at once. All of those feelings, however, fade when he notices a sudden overwhelming sense of some kind of malevolent presence lingering in the room. Kokichi tries to move his hand, throw away the blanket and scream, scream until the feeling just goes away, but he can’t, he just _can’t_ . His mind is awake, eyes open, but paralysis holds his body in an iron grip. He can only stare at the ceiling above his head, knowing that he’s not alone, knowing that there’s _something_ lurking in the dark, ready to lunge at him at any moment and he won’t even see it coming. The pressure on his chest intensifies, as if some invisible force is pushing him into the mattress. Kokichi tries to raise his head, but it’s useless, all useless, he can’t move, he can’t do any---

 

“Upupupu~!”

 

For one dreadful second everything stops.

 

And then that second inevitably passes and Kokichi can feel his insides go frigid with terror, a hysterical chant of _no, no, please, don’t_ reverberating in his head as his eyes meet the sinister, familiar glow of that blood-red eye. The bear continues to laugh and Kokichi can feel an acid-tasting bile rising in his throat. The sound of this laughter is imprinted in his memory, a baleful soundtrack to many of his seemingly relentless nightmares.

 

The paralysis seems to diminish a little and Kokichi finds that he can raise his head ever so slightly, but when he does so he almost wishes that he didn’t. Because all he can see when he does is the bear’s body sitting on top of his chest, face twisted in some supposedly sultry expression. When their eyes meet the smile becomes wider and positively wicked, the red glint of its left eye clearly visible in the darkness of their crammed little bedroom. Kokichi can feel his lungs burning, still struggling to catch his breath. He wants to thrash around, to make the bear fall from his chest, but his body remains infuriatingly unmoving.

 

And then the black and white teddy bear face starts to change, transforming into something even more horrifying, into something _human_ and Kokichi can feel terror planting its ugly roots in his heart when within mere seconds he suddenly finds himself face to face with Kaito Momota. Before he can truly comprehend what is happening Kaito’s --- fake Kaito’s, _fake_ \--- hands wrap around his neck. There’s still no noise coming from Kokichi’s mouth, not even a choked gasp as all of it feels surreal as Kokichi stares into fake Kaito’s eyes and tries to concentrate on the warmth of Kaito’s --- real Kaito’s, _real_ \--- arm still thrown over his stomach. It keeps him a little bit grounded, a little bit more willing to believe that it’s just a dream, a horrible, dreadful dream that he **will** wake up from. Fake Kaito smiles, malicious and ugly, and Kokichi shuts his eyes closed, glad that at least he hasn’t been stripped of this small ounce of control. But the closed eyes can’t protect him from _feeling_ it. A hand reaches out to him and long fingers wrap around his neck., Kaito’s --- fake or real, _which one?_ \--- thumb first tenderly caressing the delicate skin of Kokichi’s neck and then pressing hard against his throat. The other hand pushes on his chest into the mattress and he feels like he’s suffocating.

 

Kokichi dares to open one of his eyes and it’s just in time to see another transformation take place, fingers around his throat turning slimmer, longer and magenta eyes giving way to rusty gold. A strained sound finally escapes Kokichi’s mouth, but it doesn’t matter, not when Shuichi’s face is this close, stretched in a menacing smile. But it’s not where the changes stop, oh no, and suddenly there’s blood, pink and bright, welling up in Shuichi’s --- fake or real, he can’t tell anymore --- eyes.

 

And then hands around his neck squeeze and squeeze and squeeze and he’s dying, he’s dying _again_ , this time there’s no press, just warm hands and smiles turned sinister and blood dripping on his cheek and ---  

He wakes up with a loud gasp.

 

“...Kokichi?” He hears Shuichi’s sleepy voice right next to him. Soft. Worried. Comforting. Kokichi wants nothing more than to turn to the side and bury his face in Shuichi’s chest, inhale the familiar smell of his soap and let himself immerse in Shuichi’s touch, soothing and warm. He can move again, but his body feels stiff, unbearably so.

 

He blinks a few times, his vision a little blurry as he’s blinking, trying to chase away the tears and slowly makes out Shuichi’s face in the darkness. It hovers above him, the ex-detective’s brows scrunched in a worried frown and for a moment Kokichi’s almost sure that he can spot pink sticking to one of his impossibly long eyelashes. He can see Shuichi hesitating for a split second, unsure if he’s allowed to do so even now, even years later - and then Kokichi feels the warmth of Shuichi’s hand on his shoulder. The touch is gentle, feather-like and it’s clear that Shuichi’s ready to take his hand away at any moment if only he notices any sign of discomfort on the other boy’s face. It makes Kokichi sick, his insides twisting in a painful knot.

 

He opens his mouth, thoughts racing through his mind, desperately scrambling to find any kind of excuse, any kind of explanation. He can already see understanding filling Shuichi’s eyes, those perceptive beautiful golden eyes already solving the puzzle.

 

But before Kokichi’s brain has a chance to come up with something to say a warm Kaito-sized mass of blankets dotted with stars stirs next to him.

 

“What’s going on?” Comes a slightly slurred voice, still heavy with sleep. Kaito’s hair is a disaster, even more so than usual. It’s plastered to his face on one side of his head and sticks in all the directions on the other. There’s some drool sticking to his chin and he looks half-asleep, barely aware of what’s happening around him. Kokichi would make fun of him if only his voice wasn’t stuck in his throat --- it feels like being paralyzed all over again.

 

Kaito turns slightly to the side, his arms instinctively reaching out to the warmth of Kokichi’s body and sleepily trying to bring him closer, encasing him in a hug and lets sleep overtake him again. That seems to be the wrong move. Against his wishes Kokichi flinches violently at the sudden touch, memory of hands clasped around his neck still fresh in his mind, still haunting. He barely registers Shuichi’s quiet gasp as the detective quickly retrieves his hand away from Kokichi’s shoulder as if he was scalded, eyes wide and anxious. Kaito also backs away with a quiet ‘shit!’ on his mouth and guilt written all over his face, even though he has no means of knowing what he’s guilty of.

 

For a long moment there is quiet. None of them dares to move and only their breaths resound in the space between them, too loud and too heavy with unanswered questions.

 

“What’s going on?” Kaito repeats his previous question and this time it sounds stronger, more alert. The last traces of sleep are gone from his voice and his shoulders are tense as he tries to understand the confusion he woke up to, the tense atmosphere almost tangible in the air.

 

“Sleep paralysis,” mutters Shuichi finally and his eyes are serious and brimming with worry. There’s an unspoken ‘again’ at the end of this sentence.

 

Understanding flashes through Kaito’s face and he responds with a quiet hum of acknowledgement as his expression melts into something softer, something sad and disgustingly affectionate. Kokichi’s stomach churns uncomfortably when Kaito shifts into a sitting position, the blanket pooling in his lap and those mauvish eyes lock with Kokichi’s, worried and tender and ---

 

Kokichi can’t take it anymore.

 

He scrambles and hops off the bed, easily evading their reached out, comforting hands --- years of practice --- and plasters the widest smile he can muster on his face.  

 

“Oh my god, you ninnies, give me some space! I know that you want a piece, but there's only enough for me and me alone! Besides, you're both so sweaty and gross, bleh. I’m outta here!”

 

And with that he hurries in the direction of the bathroom almost tripping over his own feet on his way there. He doesn’t look back, not even once. There is too much sympathy in their eyes for his liking and it makes his throat all constricted and the tears are gathering in the corners of his eyes again and he’s suffocating again, but this time it’s real and he _can’t_ stay for any second longer.

 

The door closes shut behind him with a resonating _thud,_ successfully silencing any protests coming from the other two boys.

 

Once in the safe confine of the bathroom he lets himself sigh with relief. He turns his back to the door and leans against it heavily, hand running through his damp-with-sweat hair as an inefficient attempt to calm himself. His fingers are trembling slightly, tremors wrecking his way-too-small-for-a-young-man-his-age body.

 

 _It’s nothing_ , he tries to convince himself. Sleep paralysis is a perfectly normal thing, it happens to lots of people. And so what if it’s a manifestation of the trauma caused by being put in a simulation of a fucking killing game and then waking up with two contrasting personalities constantly fighting for control and having to deal with the unwanted popularity and nightmares and an aftermath of being crushed to death and constant doubt and ---

 

Kokichi giggles brokenly. Yeah, perfectly normal. Nothing weird to see here, folks. Happens to everyone, right?

 

Right.

 

His laughter changes halfway into a choked sob and suddenly he realizes that his cheeks are all wet and he’s heaving and panting and it _hurts hurts hurts and oh god, does it ever stop?_

 

He hears muffled shuffling coming from behind the door and his hand immediately flies to his mouth to restrict any more sobs. Shuffling continues for a long moment and there’s some muttering that he can’t quite make out. It lasts for half a minute, two people on the other side, discussing something in hushed voices.

 

And then there’s a knock on the door, quiet and hesitant. Shuichi.

 

“Kokichi? Are you alright?”

 

He swallows another sob threatening to escape his lips and pushes himself away from the door. Unsteadily, he makes his way from the door to the shower. With a trembling hand he reaches out to the faucet and turns it on. The water immediately cascades down and for a moment he just closes his eyes and lets the sound of water drown out any other noises. He doesn’t have to answer the door if he doesn’t hear any knocking. He doesn’t have to stop crying if he doesn’t hear himself sobbing.

 

Kokichi doesn’t shower. He just goes back to his spot against the door and sits on the bathroom floor in silence, the white tiles cold under his hands and feet and tries not to think of a different bathroom from a long time ago and in a world in which everything seemed to be too bright and too saturated and way too real for his liking. Because if he lets his mind wander he won’t be able to stop it. He won’t be able to stop himself from feeling this heavy smell of rust sticking to his body uncomfortably. He won’t be able to stop the vivid images of pink, pink blood splattering all over the room. He won’t be able to stop the thoughts of how the cold tiles of their little bathroom feel almost like the frigid, smooth surface of the hydraulic press.

 

He takes a shuddering breath. There’s no point in dwelling on this. Not when the nightmares are sure to come back. So Kokichi focuses on turning his emotions off, one after another, starting with anxiety through shame and disgust and continues down the list one by one, silencing all of them, every single one, because it’s easier than actually having to face them. He stays like this for a long time, minutes passing slowly until his breathing gets a little calmer, a little more steady.

 

He doesn’t know how long he sits like that, the sound of the constant stream of water slowly swallowing all of this thoughts, flowing down the drain and for once letting him just _be_. It’s a luxury that Kokichi doesn’t get to experience often. However all good things have to come to an end and after an initial reluctance he forces himself to turn the water off. He braces himself for what’s to come and opens the door.

 

He fully expected to be met with two pairs of worried stares and Shuichi’s quiet mellow-and-yet-so-surprisingly-firm voice insisting that they ‘talk this through’ or ‘call the doctor to talk about those pills that he’s supposed to take’ or something stupid like that.

 

That doesn’t happen, though. The room is shrouded in darkness, dim glow of the stars on the ceiling and a thin strip of light from where the street lamp outside their window sneaks through the split between the curtains were the only sources of light. Kokichi breathes in and then out and tries to ignore the fact that it comes out weak and quavering. Walking on his tiptoes he approaches the bed and looks at two figures lying on it. His heart does that weird clenching thing as he stares at them, their faces pressed against the softness of their pillows and chests rising and falling in a steady rhythm of their breaths. They don’t sleep embraced, but their legs are entangled together and there’s a Kokichi-sized space right between them, just waiting to be taken.

 

Kokichi takes a step forward and then hesitates, briefly wondering if maybe it isn’t too late to just grab his pillow, sneak out of here and sleep on their old couch in the other room. He quickly abandons that thought, however, as he remembers just how uncomfortable that shitty couch is; they really should just get rid of it already. Besides, however hard it is for old instincts, the ever-present urge to flee somewhere where he can be alone, to wear off he needs that place where he can just breathe freely. No matter how unbelievable it is - this is his place now. He might not always feel that way, but Shuichi and Kaito certainly do. And sometimes it’s enough.

 

With one last breath to calm his nerves down, Kokichi climbs onto the bed. Before he has a chance to change his mind. Before the nagging voice of _you don’t deserve this_ becomes too loud. He crawls into his place between them, soundlessly slipping under the blanket and curls up between them.

 

A minute passes. Then two.

 

There is some shifting, hesitant at first, and then he feels a pair of familiar lips press the softest of kisses against the crown of his head. Moments later a raspy voice whispers  “G’night, Kichi” into his ear, distracting and yet comfortingly familiar feeling of goatee scratching his neck. He tenses at first, but then compels his muscles to relax, letting Shuichi and Kaito encompass him in their warmth and tenderness and other things that he’s still too afraid to name. None of them comments on how he’s still wearing the same clothes he did before or how his hair isn’t wet at all, not even damp, and he feels something almost like gratitude bubbling in his chest and closes his eyes.

 

The sound of their breaths carries a promise of no more black and white bears with glowing red eye lurking in the dark and wearing human masks.

 

He sleeps peacefully.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I actually totally suck at this whole prompt thing. This fic goes with the Saioumota Week Day 2 prompt (comfort), but it probably works better with one of Day 1 prompts (postgame). I won't even mention Day 5 prompt (sleeping), because eh. But yeah, it was originally written for comfort, so let's stay with it. Because I do believe that even in the darkest of moments Kokichi would find some comfort in Shuichi and Kaito's presence. Even if he not always knows how to ask for it. Also, I just really wanted to work with the idea of sleep paralysis and trauma. I experienced sleep paralysis once, when I was much younger and let me tell ya... the shit is intense.
> 
> Also, I promise that the fic for Day 3 won't be angsty! ;_;
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are very appreciated! And if you ever want to scream with me about Saioumota you can find me on my Tumblr: @golden-redhead.


End file.
